


Soldier Keep on Marchin' on

by ImperiusRex



Series: When the Sun Kissed the Sea [7]
Category: Invaders (Marvel), Marvel (Comics), Marvel 616, Namor the Sub-Mariner (Comics)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, Minor Injuries, Past Character Death, bucky barnes & thomas "toro" raymond (mentioned), hello im trash and i love angst, hope you enjoy two men comforting and loving each other, jacqueline falsworth (mentioned), jimor - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-14 23:29:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21024017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImperiusRex/pseuds/ImperiusRex
Summary: Namor is hurt, and Jim finds him, taking the Atlantean Prince back to his tent and caring for him as they come to terms with the death of Tommy.[Takes place during Invaders (2019) #1]





	Soldier Keep on Marchin' on

**Author's Note:**

> Song lyrics in the beginning are from "Soldier" by Fleurie which is what I listened to the whole time I wrote this. Fic Prompt was: Secret Injury with Hurt/Comfort.

Soldier keep on marchin' on  
Head down till the work is done  
Waiting on that morning sun  
Soldier keep on marchin' on

Jim lands softly, which you would think wasn’t possible for a man who was on fire but he allowed the fire to go out at the tips of his toes first before they touched the blood stained gravel of street, then go out completely so he stood there, taller than most men. He looks around cautiously; the fight had just ended a few moments ago, and the Invaders were helping the soldiers gather the injured, carry the dead, or watch the Nazis who were now their war prisoners. Jim relaxes when he sees the small form of Toro, his flame was also out and he was kicking gravel with his boots, talking to Bucky who watched the soldiers move the prisoners, both hands on his rifle in case one of them tried anything, but still listening to Toro. His son didn’t look hurt, or like he was in any immediate danger, and though Jim had not been a father for long he knew he would do anything to make sure Toro stayed safe. The pair spoke and then began walking behind the line of solders back to the camp. Jim makes his way through the throngs of soldiers as they went in the opposite direction of him, they parted around him like he was still on fire and didn’t want to get burned, he scared them, he knew this.

One hand briefly touches Toro’s shoulder as they make their past him, a brief look from his son and he sees that tonight there would be fresh nightmares for the boy, but he was holding up and he would be ok, Toro nods and continues on his way as Jim is left behind. Steve comes up next to him, carrying a body, the shock of red hair and Jim knows who it is. Tommy. His eyes were fogged over and staring blankly up at the darkening sky. A small stream of blood had run down from the corner of his lips and dried on his skin. Steve’s uniform was stained with his blood; it blended with the red but stood out starkly against the white stripes. The part of the Captain’s face that Jim could see from his mask was tired.

“Gotta get him back, funeral tomorrow…”

“Steve, I-”

“Namor. I gave him some of my water, he wasn’t in good shape. Make sure he is ok and I…. I’ll see you at camp Jim.”

Jim nods and claps Steve’s shoulder, he wanted to say he was sorry but what good was sorry to Tommy? To any of the men who died today? He watches Steve slowly follow the end of the line of marching soldiers.

The Human Torch flames on and takes to the sky once more.

Namor watches a flame rise high into the sky from his position, his back against the wall of a crumbling stone building that had earlier in the day been whole. He hadn’t wanted to follow Rogers and the others back. Leaning his head back against the stone he closes his eyes a moment but dead eyes stared back at him, blood on his hands, he couldn’t save one person, what good was he? He was just as useless as his grandfather always claimed.

“Namor?”

He cracks open one eyelid and sees Jim standing above him, flaming off, the fire around his head disappears last and it creates a halo effect, almost as if he was some holy figure in one of the surface men’s place of worship, the ones with the colored glass windows where people had golden light around their heads.

“Namor what’s wrong?” Jim kneels down next to him one hand on his arm, “Are you hurt?”

He feels Jim move his hand up his arm to check him, the other quickly moving over Namor’s chest checking for injuries and Namor hates how much he likes Jim’s touch. _Hates_ how comforting and warm it is against his bare skin, he slaps it away sharply.

“You do not touch a Prince of the Blood.” Namor’s harsh words remind him of harsher words spoken when he was younger. **_Never show weakness boy. Never. The moment you show weakness, Atlantis will fall and our people’s blood are on your hands. _**

Yet were not his hands already drenched in blood? Red and thick, it dried under his fingernails and it branded his skin._ Failure_ it said, _Weak and Useless_. If he couldn’t even protect Tomm- a mere human, then how could ever hope to protect his people? He shouldn’t have learned their names; it only makes it harder when they die. They all die in the end.

Jim settles back on the heels of his feet as he crouches over him and Namor closes his eyes again, trying to breath, his gills hurt, something had happened, shrapnel was stuck in them, it had begun as an irritating itch after he awoke in Steve’s arms, but even after drinking water he wasn’t healed, they dug in deeper with every breath and soon it would be impossible to get the small bits of metal out. He would die drowning in the water if he went back and he without being able to go back to the water he would die. He feels hands on him again and he wants to snap at Jim to leave him be but it hurts to talk, he had used what strength he had left to tell him off already. Jim gathers Namor in his arms and lifts him as thought he weighed no more than one of Namor’s feathers. Carrying him bridal style he begins to walk back to the camp.

Namor seethes with the indignity of being handled in such a manner but he cannot gather the strength to leap from the Torch’s arms. He tries to stay as stiff as possible but after a moment he settles and lays his head against Jim’s chest. He opens his eyes and watches as the countryside passes him by. Jim’s artificial heart beats loudly in his ear. Namor and Jim don’t speak. Namor lets the steady steps of the Human Torch and his heartbeat lulls him into a state of half consciousness, slipping in and out of awareness.

Jim can’t explain why he chooses to walk rather than fly, it would be faster but it would also be over quicker, he wanted time holding Namor. The night comes on too fast as the sky is awash in orange, pinks, and red from the setting sun. Jim makes it back to camp just as the evening bustle was at its highest and goes unnoticed as he slips into his tent. He doesn’t like how quiet Namor has been, he expected at least some kind of protest, or rebuke, or complaint. He’s glad that Toro isn’t here; though he always had a bunk set up for Toro every time they moved and Toro took advantage of it by crashing here some nights, usually Bucky and Toro made their own smaller tent where they could hang out together. He decides to put Namor on his own bunk. Like Jim, the Atlantean is too tall for it his legs wouldn’t fit on it completely unless he curled his knees up and slept on his side. Jim kneels at the side of his bed.

“Namor?”

His soft voice reaches Namor’s ears who turns his head slightly to look into Jim’s face, “What is wrong? You’re hurt but I can’t see a wound… do you need the ocean? Water?”

Namor doesn’t speak and Jim feels panic set in, it was so unlike him to be so silent, he wanted Namor to rage, he could understand that. “Namor, please” he begs, “Let me help you.”

Green eyes finally focus on him and Namor grunts, “Shrapnel.”

“Where? Your skin is so tough how did it-”

“Gills. Left side.”

Jim’s sapphire blue eyes move to the small breaks in Namor’s neck, and one finger slowly traces them, then pulls one gill line up slightly to see a metallic shine from the shrapnel, Namor hisses. Jim bites his lip and thinks; he has to clean the wound, he knows alcohol disinfects, to ensure no infection sets in, but he needs some small tool in order to pull out the tiny pieces of metal.

“If I get you back to the ocean will you heal?”

Namor shakes his head no, “I won’t be able to breathe properly.”

Jim curses and then without thinking brushes back Namor’s hair as an act of comfort, something he did with Toro sometimes when the boy was hurt, he doesn’t even realize his action since he is too busy trying to think of what he needs.

“I’ll be back. Don’t move.” He orders the Prince before leaving the tent.

Namor snorts, as if he was in any position to move. He would have gone home to Atlantis if he could.

Jim finds the medics tent and Randall is there, patching up another soldier, he speaks with him briefly, Randall offers to come and help, but Jim sees the numbers of soldiers who need him there and declines. Jim gets the supplies he needs and returns to find Namor still lying on is back on Jim’s bunk. The torch is relieved the idiot didn’t try to move, he thought he would because Namor is notoriously bad at taking orders. He sets the tools down and gets on his knees to be able to reach Namor’s neck easily, turning the prince’s head so that his gills were exposed Jim takes a breath.

“I’m going to take it out; if you can’t hold back then I can call in Steve-

“No… keep Rogers out of this.”

“Fine, but if you punch me I will punch back and just do this while you’re unconscious.”

Namor makes a grunting noise of acknowledgement. Jim swallows and then quickly opens the bottle of whiskey that Randall gave him and pours a bit over the small tool he gave him. He gently inserts it into the first gill line and winces at Namor’s slight pained noise, he tries to move quickly, to dig in and pull out the shrapnel. It’s hard but when he thinks he finds them all he moves on to the next gill line, Namor had three, and when Jim finished the last one he drops the bloody tool to the ground where it clattered with the bits of metal it had retrieved. Jim puts some ointment on the area and uses tape to keep a piece of gauze attached to Namor’s neck, he had nicked some of skin and the blood was on his fingers.

Namor had spent the twenty or so minutes that Jim had operated on him clenching his teeth and digging his fingernails into the palms of his hand. When it was over he still couldn’t relax. He usually didn’t sleep in tents at night preferring to find a body of water to rest in since he was sure that no one would sneak up on him without alerting him. Jim bustles about and Namor leans over and grabs the bottle that Jim had left on the floor, it was still open so Namor put it to his lips, it tasted _disgusting_, dearly missing Atlantean wine he drinks it all in one swig.

Jim sighed, glad it’s over. Cleaning up the mess from the floor and uses a jug of water over a small bowl to clean his hands. He lights his hands on fire to dry them off them puts it out again.

Jim turns to check on his patient and watches Namor’s Adam’s apple as it bobs with every gulp, the bottle never leaving his lips until its contents were completely empty. He could drink like… well like a fish. Namor finishes and wipes his lips with the back of his hand, then pointing the bottle at Jim.

“Another.”

“I’m not your servant Namor. When you get better you can go find more.” Jim says stiffly as he crosses his arms. Namor scowls. He wants to drown himself in spirits; he does not want to think about Tommy’s blank stare, he struggles to his feet and storms over to Jim who stood in between him and the exit to the tent. “Move Hammond. If you will not accommodate me then I will do for myself.”

“No,”

Namor blinks.

“I must have also have damaged my hearing, did you just refuse me?”

“Your hearing is fine. I’m not letting you leave tonight; more alcohol will only dehydrate you. You won’t need long before you’re healed then you can go.”

“If you will not move then Prince Namor will move you.”

Jim puts a finger on Namor’s chest and pushes him back easily with an arched blonde eyebrow, “Good luck with that, the water you had earlier isn’t enough to restore you, I can give you more water but that requires you staying in bed.” Jim doesn’t mention how he saw Namor rushing from one place to the other trying to save everyone on the battlefield, and how the Atlantean’s body had been used as a shield for the humans was now exhausted beyond all measure. He knows Namor would scoff and then try to prove a point by being a stubborn jackass.

Namor scowls harder, he wasn’t used to having someone… care for him. Someone who wasn’t his mother or Dorma, someone whom Namor thought was handso- he shakes his head and utters “_Bah_. I will stay because I **choose** to stay.”

Jim rolls his eyes, “Fine.”

He wants to carry him and place him back in bed but he thinks Namor won’t stand for it this time; Jim misses the feeling of holding him close from earlier. He waits until Namor collapses on the bed again before stepping outside of his tent, he looks around, the camp had settled, those who were hurt were taken care of, others had already lined up and gotten their rations, sitting in spaced out small groups around campfires eating and talking quietly, somewhere in the distance he hears someone crying, that soldier had lost someone they all had, but many men shifted uncomfortably as they tried desperately to pretend they were unaffected, it fooled no one but someone else tries to cheer up the group of men he was sitting with by talking about some funny antics from his childhood, soft laughter, not enough to break the calmed but tense mummers around the camp. Jim lines up for his plate of rations, he doesn’t need it but maybe Namor would eat, Toro slides up next to him.

The boy had already gotten his rations but with Jim he gets a second plate because the soldier who was in charge of giving them out certainly didn’t want to mess with Jim. Toro bites into a stale piece of bread and looks towards Jim’s tent as they walk. “I’ll be with Bucky, he and Tommy were friends and well… I’m worried he might do something stupid. He was talking about heading to town to the bar but maybe he’ll sleep it off. Steve has me and Jackie moving out in a few hours, he called for a meeting in the morning in the command tent, thought you should know.”

“I’ll be there and Toro… stay safe.” Jim looks worriedly at him.

Toro beams up at him, the smile doesn’t quite reach the boys dark blue eyes. “I’ll be fine Papi. Jackie moves fast and I fly fast we should be ok on the mission. Just… take care of yourself. Namor isn’t always the best company.”

“I’ll be fine. Good luck son.”

Toro hands Jim the remains of his dish, already mostly eaten and Jim holds up the two plates while the teen hugs him around the waist before steeping back to flame on, he flies to the far end of the camp where there was a small tent that Bucky and Toro used.

The older Torch watches until the flaming streak fades and goes back to the tent. Namor had his back to the entrance and from his breathing Jim knows he is asleep. “Namor?”

No answer.

He sets the plates down with a canteen of water on the small overturned crate he used as a table by the washing bowl. He closes the tent flaps and then unzips his Torch uniform, stepping out of it he switches it for a white army tee shirt and no pants preferring to sleep in his underwear when Toro wasn’t around. Jim doesn’t get cold like the other guys; he goes to Toro’s cot to get some rest. Laying he crosses his arms behind his head and stares up at the tent ceiling. After what felt like half an hour Namor twitches in his sleep, fitfully moving and Jim’s head turns to look at him while still cradled in his hands. The Prince was not a restful sleeper, he mutters in Atlantean and kicks the thin blanket to the ground. Jim has never seen Namor sleep before, the man never rested near him and so he takes this time to just watch him, noting the way Namor’s back shudders as if… as if he were trying to hold back tears and Jim’s blonde brows furrow. A moment later a soft barely noticeable sob, and if Jim hadn’t been watching so intently he would have missed it. He gets up and goes to Namor, placing one hand on his back, “Namor… are you awake?”

Namor had drifted to sleep, the alcohol making him feel fuzzy combined with his earlier fatigue was enough for him to maybe consider that Jim was right and staying was best for now, his light slumber had been plagued by nightmares, Tommy dying in front of him, the human’s head bleeding as the sounds of gunfire filled Namor’s ears and his back was pelted by bullets. The feeling of crushing human bodies under his strong hands as he twisted Nazi necks, the loud crack of bones. By now Namor had lost count of how many people he had killed.

He doesn’t like it when others see him weak, vulnerable, but Namor couldn’t help the tears that were on his face when he jolted out of his dream, he had learned long ago that tears were useless in the ocean. When a hand touches his back he flinches, then reminds himself it’s not another bullet.

Jim leans over to check Namor’s face and is startled to see him crying quietly into Jim’s pillow. “Water Rat… what is it? Do your gills still hurt?”

“Leave me be. Just… leave.”

Jim pulls his hand back. He doesn’t know what to do; he had never once seen Namor cry before. It’s strangely unsettling. Jim hesitates a moment but then goes over and picks up the empty cot and sets it down next to Namor’s and pushes it close. Grabbing a blanket he spreads it over the sleeping prince and then gets into the makeshift double bed and pulls the cover over himself. He lies on his back staring up at the tent. He didn’t know why he did this, but he just doesn’t want to leave Namor alone. He doesn’t like how Namor’s pain makes his own heart twist.

Human emotions were confusing to the Human Torch.

Now the Atlantean could feel the heat of a body next to him. _Jim_ his mind vaguely supplies the name. Namor longs to be held in those strong arms again, why? He cannot tell you, they were not friends but they were something more than enemies, but what exactly? Still he stiffens when Jim’s arms wrap around him and he is pulled close to the Torch’s body, his back against Jim’s chest, one of Jim’s bare legs is thrown over his own, and the warmth of him heats Namor’s body.

Jim had thrown caution to the wind, he simply didn’t care that this was not what men do, not to friends or teams mates, he simply wanted to hold the Prince and he might not ever get the chance to do so again. Hammond likes having Namor close, he likes that Namor didn’t kick him out of bed, or disagree. Usually in sleep Namor’s ankle wings were still and tucked in tight to his ankles, yet now it tickles as it bushes softly against Jim’s leg. He is careful not to put any pressure on them. Jim nuzzles the back of Namor’s neck, taking in his scent, his skin always smelled like the sea, but tonight it had a tang of copper from blood. He is careful of his injury as he presses kisses to Namor’s neck, he settles and after a moment Namor shifts, and turns around to face him.

Namor’s voice is hoarse and rough, “They all die so easily.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

Jim bites his bottom lip again, worrying it, “I don’t know. It doesn’t make any sense, the killing, the Nazis… they hurt people so we hurt them to make them stop. People who do this… they die.”

“Like bags of water, so fragile. Turn your eyes away for a moment you turn back and they are bleeding into the dirt because I wasn’t strong enough, fast enough-”

“It wasn’t your fault Namor… Tommy knew the risks, we all do, we all signed up for it.”

“I was _supposed_ to _save_ him. I am The Sub-Mariner!”

“You can’t save everyone Namor; you can save some, but not all… people will die.”

“Tommy, he and I. We were.”

Namor sucks in a breath, and wipes his tears away. He had never been this open before, he wants to blame the drink but he is barely drunk, he just wants to unload the burden from his heart and this anguish makes him want to swim, swim until his arms hurt and he could swim a long time before that happened. Jim looks at him with understanding.

“I know.”

Green eyes, more brilliant than any gem, stare at him and Jim is solemn as he presses a kiss to the Atlanteans lips. It’s soft and quiet and Jim has never kissed anyone with such gentleness before. Namor’s lips were cold, he didn’t know that before but it made sense, the man’s body was always cool. Namor kissed him back, following Jim’s lead and when they parted their breathes are ragged Jim, moves a bit of hair off of Namor’s face, tucked it behind a pointed ear.

Under the covers in the quiet of the tent it felt like they were the only two people in the camp. To them it wasn’t about sex, but more for the comfort of each other, knowing the other was close. Namor watches Jim with some kind of indescribable emotion and Jim doesn’t know what it means; this moment felt more intimate than sex which Jim had done once, with a woman back in the States before they left for the war. After moment Namor brings one hand up to Jim’s cheek and traces his jaw then his lips. Jim kisses Namor’s fingertips.

Namor moves his hand back to Jim’s neck and pulls him close to press his forehead against Jim’s forehead while their noses touch. Jim is a bit confused at what’s happening but he doesn’t move until Namor pulls back. The Atlantean’s eyes are at half mast now.

Jim feels like something special happened there but what it was he didn’t know. It was some Atlantean thing; Namor often had sayings and customs that were a mystery.

“What was that?”

He softly asks as Namor snuggles into him, and Jim places his chin on the top of Namor’s head, tucking him in close.

“What?”

“That, what we just did.” Jim runs his hands up and down Namor’s bare back; soothing gestures that made him feel better.

“It’s just something we do among my people, when we recognize someone who means… something to us.” Namor yawns a bit and his voice trails off, “It’s like a human kiss…”

Jim files this information away, and though he should sleep too, he doesn’t want to miss a single moment of this night. He likes looking down at the sharp lines of Namor’s face, memorizing every inch of the Atlantean’s proud face.

The Torch holds Namor all through it, enjoying the soft breathing on his collar bone and he doesn’t know when he falls asleep but when he awakes Jim was alone. The Torch rubs his face. _Did he dream everything?_ Namor was gone but his bandage sat next to the washing bowl.

He was gone, and Jim had to go and meet Steve. When he arrives Steve asks Jim if he had seen Namor and Jim lies. He doesn’t want to share what happened last night with anyone. It wasn’t like they really did much, just slept together in the same bed, but it felt private.

Later when Steve comes back from the town, he tells Jim that found Namor with a woman in his lap, drunk and getting drunker. Jim hides how much that affects him but it hurts to think Namor went looking for comfort in other places. Later He stands next to Namor at Tommy’s funeral. He glances at him, for a sign, some kind of look about what they shared last night but Namor is too lost in himself. Jim grinds his teeth, and turns his eyes back to the casket.

As he walks along the side of the cliff close to evening time, he sees Namor sitting down alone, his funeral suit discarded behind him. Jim sits next to him. They watch the waves together in silence. The warm setting sun makes Jim feel good, closing his eyes he turns his face to the sun’s rays, when the wind shifts and brings with it the smell of the ocean he opens them again and turns to Namor.

He placed a hand on Namor’s neck, his gills had healed but Jim was still careful and when Namor turns to him quizzically Jim pulls him in and presses his forehead to Namor’s, noses touching. His artificial heart feels like it’s about to burst out of his rib cage but Jim had been trying to sort through his emotions all day and he just needs to let Namor know how he feels.

“You mean _something_ to me, and we just have to keep on marching on until I can figure out what it is, because I’m new to this world Namor. Yet I have already seen so much death and pain and all the **ugly** things humans can do, but I have seen that there is love too, and I don’t want you to destroy yourself before I can find that love in you.”

“Humans are _fragile_ Fire Bug; the human heart even more so. Why do you think I would be any better at protecting yours when I couldn’t save a single human’s life?”

Namor looks at Jim who gives him a soft smile.

“Because my heart can be rebuilt.” 

Jim says as if it was the simplest thing in the world and Namor melts into him, the tears from last night, the rage of his anger from this morning, the sorrow he carried slowly ebbs into something more manageable as they hold each other.

“I promise you Fire Bug. One day, I’ll make a better world.”

Jim chuckles. Namor gives him a half smile.

“I’ll be there Water Rat, I wouldn’t miss it.”

**Author's Note:**

> The only thing that kills me more is thinking about how Jim and Namor fought in Invaders (2019) #5, and I wonder that if this is what Jim thought of and that's why he held himself back. Anyways I love misery, lol.
> 
> Comments and Kudos are always appreciated!


End file.
